Larissa didn't speak as she walked back inside the mansion, the cold air clinging to her skin like a warning she couldn't shake. The door clicked shut behind her, soft but final. Lukyan's presence loomed behind her like a shadow she couldn't outrun.
She walked with slow, deliberate steps, as if hurrying would crack the fragile control she still had left.
Lukyan didn't speak either—not immediately.
She stopped at the base of the stairs and turned, her voice low and hard. "Tell me what she meant."
He met her eyes. "It's not what you think."
"That's not an answer."
His jaw clenched. "It's complicated."
"That girl—Elena—she called you a murderer. That doesn't sound complicated to me. That sounds final."
"I didn't kill anyone," he said. "But I was part of something… and I didn't stop it in time."
She folded her arms. "Start explaining. From the beginning."
Lukyan looked down at his hands. "It was seven years ago. I was working on a classified research program in Prague. A combination of regenerative medicine and neural mapping. Dmitri was funding it—pushing the limits. He wanted immortality, in his own twisted way."
Larissa said nothing. Her heart was hammering, but she forced herself to remain still.
"There were volunteers. Or so we were told. People who were terminal, desperate. We performed surgeries, treatments. I saw people improve. Walk again. Remember again. But then…" He paused. "Then I met her."
Larissa narrowed her eyes. "The girl?"
He nodded. "Anastasiya. She was only sixteen. Too young. Too quiet. She had a scar on her chest from a previous surgery—something not in her medical file. I started digging. What I found…" He trailed off. "She wasn't a volunteer. She was an orphan. Brought in under the table. Dmitri approved it."
Her voice cracked. "And you didn't stop it."
"I tried," he said quickly. "I went to the board. Reported it. They shut it down. Burned the records. Told me if I didn't stay quiet, they'd take my license. My freedom. My life."
Larissa stared at him, numb. "So you ran."
"I hid. I started building something untouchable. I married you, created the perfect image. A contract. Children. A fortress they couldn't break."
"You used me," she said, her voice breaking.
"I protected you," he whispered.
"You built your safety net on my life," she hissed. "You handed me a contract like I was a pawn."
"I gave you security. Wealth. A life on your terms."
She stepped back, tears threatening. "But not truth. Never truth."
Lukyan's voice dropped. "I didn't know I'd fall in love with you."
Her breath caught. "Don't."
"It's true."
"That doesn't fix anything."
"I know," he said, voice barely audible. "But it's all I have left."
Hours Later
The fire in the guest room crackled softly. Larissa curled on the edge of the bed, arms around her knees, Lukyan's confession replaying over and over in her mind.
She remembered how he looked the first night of their arrangement—cold, unreadable, terrifyingly beautiful. She'd believed she could live with him for ten years and walk away unchanged.
She'd been wrong.
Her phone buzzed against the nightstand. She picked it up.
A message.
Unknown Number:Truth doesn't stay buried. If you want the full story, come to me. Tomorrow night. Come alone.
An address followed. Not far. A few towns over.
Larissa didn't need to ask who sent it.
Elena.
She stared at the screen for a long time.
There was a reason Lukyan had destroyed the files. A reason he hadn't told her until now. But how much had he held back? What else was still hiding under those layers of ice?
She would find out.
She had to.
Meanwhile…
Lukyan stood in his private study, staring at the empty whiskey glass in his hand.
The file was gone now. Burned.
But the guilt remained.
He walked to the fireplace, staring into the dying embers. He hadn't told Larissa everything.
Not about the other patient.
Not about the real reason Anastasiya had died.
Because the girl had woken up during surgery.
And she'd said his name.
"Don't let him touch me again."
Lukyan's hands trembled.
He wasn't the one who had hurt her—but he hadn't stopped the man who did.
And that man was still out there.
Still protected.
Still powerful.
Dmitri.
The Next Morning
Larissa sat in the kitchen with a mug of untouched tea.
Alina toddled in, hair messy, dragging her favorite stuffed bear.
Larissa lifted her onto her lap. The child smelled like baby shampoo and safety.
"I love you," Larissa whispered.
Alina leaned her head on her shoulder. "Love you too, Mama."
Larissa kissed her soft curls.
The children were her anchor. Her purpose. The only part of this contract that had felt real from the start.
She had built a life in this house. Despite everything. Despite him.
But now, she had to decide if she could keep living inside a lie.
Even if that lie had become her home.